


Routine As Usual

by Too_Many_Seeds



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, mild violence, pre-game, some unhealthy thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Seeds/pseuds/Too_Many_Seeds
Summary: Something kept bringing Jacob back to the diner every week. It definitely had nothing to do with the pretty waitress, though. Nothing at all.





	Routine As Usual

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Some unhealthy thoughts, a little bit of violence.

The diner was simple enough. Situated on the outskirts of the mountain park, the last real vestige of society in the untamed wilderness.  _As it should be_ , Jacob thought, as he stepped his way through the dirt path.

 Some interstate fast-food chain had tried to set up shop once, just off the highway leading to the Valley, but the mountain folk had kicked up a protest, for once resisting the lull and ease society sang for. That was good; Jacob doubted he’d be as fond of the location if it was polluted with the overarching smell of grease. 

The first time he’d dropped in, it had been the end of one of his hunting day trips. He couldn’t let himself stagnate; couldn’t let himself himself become soft and complacent, and found the mountains suitable and even comforting grounds. The day had been profitable; Judge having tracked and taken down a decent buck, and the day had been drawing to a close. 

He’d emerged onto the road opposite the diner. His radio clipped to his belt for emergencies - though he doubted he’d need it; it was more a precaution to ease John’s worrying - he crossed the four-way intersection and headed inside. There were a few cars parked in the lot, but nothing too busy. He left Judge to his antics, muttering a quiet “behave” before peeling open the door. 

The bell rang with a cheery tinkle, and Jacob immediately recognised the smell of barbecue - or more accurately, his stomach did; making his lunchtime sandwich seem pitiful and far away. He grunted, heading for the nearest booth and setting his rifle down carefully. 

There was another few burly men across the room, seated at the serving bench and making their way through a hearty meal. The Lumber Mill was nearby, Jacob remembered, and assumed they’d just signed off a shift and were catching a bite before trekking back home. 

He eyed them carefully, deliberating and sizing them up to his Chosen. How would they compare, he wondered, but pushed it aside. Not the time, not when he was outnumbered. 

Jacob flinched as he felt someone approach him, and he glanced to the side to see the waitress.  _Pretty little thing_ , he thought vaguely as she set down the menu. 

“Welcome to the Grill Streak,” she greeted him, sweetness in a smile. “I’ll be looking after you this evening. Can I get you anything to drink, for starters?” 

She wore tartan in red and a tag on her shirt named her Rook. Rook for the bird, and perhaps it suited her; voice soft but appealing and made him wonder how she sang. 

“Just a water,” he replied gruffly, nodding in thanks as he took the menu. She flashed a brief smile and made her way to the kitchen, skirt hem fluttering as she pivoted. 

The menu was creative, to say the least, but he settled on a relatively simple order. She was back soon enough, hands clasped on her notepad, ready to record. As she wrote, she pulled her bottom lip inward in concentration, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. 

“Let me know if I can do anything to help!” Rook said, another smile before she left for the kitchen. 

The meal was average, coated in too much dressing. He came back the next week. 

Jacob had never had a routine hunting path - had always thought it led to complacency when a man should be the most alive - but he found himself sticking to the same roads. Once, he’d pointedly taken a different way, but had subconsciously crossed back somewhere along the track. 

 _All roads lead to Rome_ , he thought with a twist of his mouth before entering the diner for a countless time. 

The sun was still up, casting a warm afternoon glow into the room. From the counter, a familiar head popped up.

“Oh! You’re early, Jacob!” Rook said, eyes wide. She hurried to stand, and he noticed her apron was stained, and she grimaced. “Sorry about the mess; kid spilled some soda. Nightmare to clean.” 

He huffed out a laugh, forgoing his usual booth and making his way to one of the counter stools. Setting his gun at the side, he sighed as he settled in and she made her way opposite him. He didn’t need a menu - he never varied - but she placed one in front of him out of courtesy. 

“Don’t need to look,” Jacob told her, shaking his head but not looking away. “Already know what I want.”

“The usual?” She asked, wry quirk of an eyebrow. 

“What else?” 

She pushed the menu towards him slowly, deliberately with a softer smile. 

“You can have  _anything_ you want.” 

 _Can I?_ He thought but said nothing, opening the menu and giving it a courteous once-over. Again, he closed it in a moment. “The usual.” 

She was trying to look disapproving, but the unwilling quirk of her lips gave her away as she reached forward and none-too-gently swiped the menu back from him.

“Fine,” Rook said in a mock huff. “Be difficult, then.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle as she whirled around and went out back to give his order. 

It was during one of his visits with John that he found out more about her. His youngest brother had been not-so-subtly expressing his worry that Jacob regularly fell off the grid for most of a day, and so Jacob had invited him to meet him at the end of the hike. 

He’d come trekking his usual way out of the woods, John giving a disconcerting stare at Judge at his side, mouth lathered in a conspicuous splash of red. 

“Deer,” Jacob explained, throwing his pack in John’s backseat. 

“Charming,” John commented, raising an eyebrow. He eyed the establishment wearily as they made their way up the wooden stairs. “I honestly don’t see why you’re so fond of this place.” 

“It’s convenient,” Jacob shrugged, giving Judge the cue to meander freely before turning back to the entrance. “Saves me going hungry.” 

John hummed, not entirely convinced. They went inside, the diner deserted but for them - a rarity, and perhaps the lumber workers had been and gone already. They settled in his claimed booth, Jacob passing the menu along to his brother and leaning back to wait for service. 

They weren’t waiting long, the woman approaching them, notepad at the ready. She flashed a smile at them, but Jacob couldn’t help the strange thrill he felt when he noticed how she leaned towards him, smiled  _warmly_ at him as opposed to politely as she did his brother. 

When she left, John met his eyes, having that suspiciously sharp glint he knew all too well.

“So I see why you come here now,” was all he said, smile flashing a hint of canine, amused but not displeased. 

John was able to find out that she was trying to get into the local law enforcement. 

The next time Jacob sat in the booth, he watched her from across the room, seeing the strength in her step, the ease with which she carted the boxes of supplies through to the kitchen. He imagined her standing next to the Sheriff - who he’d met once or twice on business - standing proud as an officer, as a  _Deputy._

He thought John was the best at judging character, but Jacob knew he wasn’t poor at it himself. He knew that the Rook of the Grill Streak diner was more than capable of becoming the Deputy they apparently wanted to be. 

He briefly considered inviting her out to the shooting range, offering some pointers, but he quashed the thought quickly. She wanted to protect, he thought. He did too, but he knew the harsher realities of the world; that sometimes protection meant sacrifice; meant culling the herd. He didn’t think she’d take too kindly to that. 

 _A rook and a wolf,_  he thought wryly as he came to the familiar end of his hike.  _Cunning and claws. But I wear my carnage like a crown._

Judge wandered off into the surroundings, muzzle splattered again with his kill - he was getting stronger, Jacob had noted, as was expected - and the hunter glanced up at the sky. It was darkened, the winter bringing the stars out in greeting much earlier than of recent weeks. 

He was late, he knew, but the diner didn’t close for some hours yet. 

The lot was deserted, the lumbermen having been and gone and the dead zone well and truly settled on the establishment. The road lights were pale as he made his way up the stairs towards the entrance, wincing at the gaudy red brightness of the Grill Streak sign to his right. He stopped and stared once he reached the front door. 

The lights were off inside. 

A power outage? Jacob frowned and shook his head, glancing back to the bright sign near the parking lot. He’d once overheard the diner manager mention that it ran on a different generator to the store - due to all the goddamn energy it would require - but if the power was out, the sign would be too. 

 _An issue with the box then_ , he wondered, peering to the side of the building where he knew it was. He’d done a little bit of tinkering in the past few months - helping with electricity in the bunkers - so he was confident he could at least offer an assessment, if nothing else. But he’d have to ask first, so he reached out to push his way into the diner. 

The door was locked. 

He frowned, double-checking the time and confirming it was still within opening hours. The sign was still flipped to OPEN, but the way was shut. 

His fingers tightened around his rifle and he knocked slowly on the door. 

Nobody answered. 

Jacob narrowed his eyes, trusting his instincts that there was something  _off_  about the situation. He readied his rifle, just in case, as he decided to go around back; check the other entrance to the building. He kept his footsteps muffled as best he could, keeping to the wall and peering slightly around the corner as he went. 

There was a moment he’d come to recognise when hunting, where an animal tended to realise its own mortality. It would straighten up -  _he stepped around the corner -_ its eyes would scan the surroundings -  _he knew something was there in the dark._ It would catch sight of its predator and know it was prey -  _there, waiting by the bin, not two steps away was the crouched figure._

Jacob thought the figure was waiting for him, having heard his initial approach and knock at the front door and planning to get the jump on him. Perhaps he might’ve wondered what the assailant wanted - robbery, maybe, or something more sinister. He wasn’t going to find out, as he leaned back around the corner, checking for any other figures nearby and then whistling loudly - the sound high and piercing in the night. 

It alerted his would-be assailant, who he heard scramble and rush to round the corner, only to be met with the sight of him waiting, rifle raised warningly. Maybe he should have shot - John would have no issues getting him out of any trouble - but the Project was already getting enough scrutiny these days by the public. Restraint from him might limit it. 

The figure paused, cocking its head at the sight of the gun. The hint of a blade glinted at him from in between the figure’s sleeve, but they belatedly realised what they were dealing with and stepped back, knife clattering to the ground as they raised their hands up. 

“ _Jesus!”_ They hissed, jolting away from him, causing their hood to fall back and reveal a teenager, lanky and greasy-haired. His eyes were wide and fixed on the gun, a sheen of sweat covering his skin as he glanced between it and Jacob erratically. “Holy  _shit,_ that’s a fucking gun, oh my god, I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I swear to god, man!” 

There was an almost rhythmic banging coming from somewhere, but Jacob focused on the boy, narrowing his eyes at the knife on the ground. 

“The fuck you planning to do with that, huh?” He asked, flat because he knew the answer very well. From the way the boy hesitated, he knew it too. “That’s what I thought.” 

The banging hadn’t let up, and he finally broke contact with the boy to stare into the building. The teenager continued to ramble out his apologies and excuses.

“Please, please, you’ve got to believe me, I had no idea,” he insisted to deaf ears. “Fuck, Lenny just said it was going to be an easy job! I swear I had no idea.” 

Jacob glanced back at him quickly. 

“Lenny?” He repeated, eyes narrowed. “There are two of you?” 

The boy hesitated for a moment, before gulping and nodding slowly. 

“Lenny wants the key to the safe,” the kid said, explaining in a strange plea. “She didn’t give it.” 

The banging inside gave way to a crash, and Jacob swore as he realised what was happening. 

“Get on the ground,” he ordered, and when the boy hesitated, his voice was hard. “Get on the  _fucking_ ground.” 

He heard the rustling of the nearby bushes - Judge answering the call - and he gave another firm whistle and tapped his foot by the front of the boy. He stepped forward, kicking the knife into the grass so the boy wouldn’t get any other stupid ideas, and headed to the back entrance. 

It was locked, but the window was shattered, and he was able to clamber inside, boot crunching on broken glass as he went. He could hear the creaking upstairs, sounding cautious - ‘Lenny’ hadn’t found her yet, he guessed. 

He paused on the stairway, slowly taking them up to the second landing. He hadn’t been up there before and was pressed against the wall as he moved, making sure to peer into the darkness as best he could. 

The door had broken, as he’d suspected and he slowly stared through the entryway into the gloom. It didn’t take him long to spot the assailant, who’d opened up the nearby cupboards searching for his quarry -  _amateur,_ Jacob thought, immediately figuring the woman would have made for the opposite side closet; the one with a more stable door. 

He stepped through, blocking the exit and standing opposite the stacks of boxes by the window, aiming his gun and clearing his throat. 

The man made a ‘huh’ sound and whirled around to see him. Unlike his ‘friend’ out front, Lenny was no child. A big, broad-shouldered man, possibly the boy’s brother, judging by their hair, but Jacob wasn’t particularly interested. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Lenny asked eloquently, taking a step forward and then stopping in his tracks as he belatedly remembered the rifle. His face contorted into a frown, eyes glancing to and fro as he searched for a quick exit. “You the fucking cops?” 

That was a laugh.

“Nah,” Jacob replied, flat. “Just a concerned neighbour.” 

“Get off,” Lenny scowled. “There aren’t any houses on this street.” 

Jacob hummed. 

“Fancy that,” he shrugged, and then took a step to the side and gestured with his gun. “Time to go.” 

He watched Lenny hesitate, sizing him up and he could almost hear the man’s thoughts -  _he’s not that much bigger than me, I can take him -_ and he saw the telltale glint of a blade in the man’s hands as well and knew he would not go gently. 

If he’d been paying more attention, he might have seen the figure move out from behind the boxes by the window. 

Lenny lunged forward, and Jacob prepared to dodge, but before he had the chance, he saw something move behind his assailant. He barely was able to catch the glint of aluminium before a loud ‘thunk’ filled the room, and Lenny gave a surprised shout, stumbling into the nearby wall. 

Rook moved forward again before the man had a chance to recover and kicked out at his lower leg, causing the assailant to bend slightly and she used his imbalance to push him over firmly onto the ground. 

“Hold him,” she barked at Jacob, who wanted to raise an eyebrow but did as she asked, pushing down on the man’s upper back to keep him bent while she grabbed a nearby extension cord and began to tie his hands together. “The police are on their way. They won’t be far by now.” 

Spotting the knife on the ground, he again kicked it away from them both; sending it scattering onto the nearby carpet. She sighed, standing upright and glancing towards the doorway. 

“There were two of them,” Rook said, voice slightly wavering as adrenaline began to wear off. “Where’s the other one?”

“Dealt with,” Jacob answered, and turned his face to the opposite window as he began to hear a car speeding down the road. Their knights in shining armour, he supposed.

She seemed to deflate slightly, a flush building on her cheeks as a wave of exhaustion overcame her. He held out a hand, pressing on her shoulder for support, and she seemed to jolt at the touch - breaking out of whatever stupor she was in. 

She smiled up at him gratefully - warmly - and reached up with her own hand to briefly cover his in a soft, thankful touch.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in this,” Rook told him later, when the police finally left and it was past midnight. The manager had also been and gone, helping her lock up and making sure she was okay. 

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on Judge who was sniffing the ground for some scent or another he’d found. 

“It’s nothing,” he replied, uncomfortable with any praise as it tempted him to remember a rose-eyed boy who dreamed of heroics and glory.  _You’re not a hero. “_ Think you did all the work.” 

It shouldn’t have made his stomach flip to see the blush spread across her cheeks as she laughed sheepishly and stared at the ground. Fucking hell, he wasn’t some schoolboy, he shouldn’t be so goddamn nervous. 

But the sweet little smile she gave was worth every fucking butterfly. 

“Think the Sheriff might finally give me a job?” Rook asked, a little wryly. “This is certainly one way to make an impression.” 

He glanced down at her and thought that he’d guess she would make an impression wherever she went. 

“Yeah,” Jacob replied, not missing a beat. “You’ll be fighting crime soon enough, sweetheart.” 

His little Rook, he thought with confidence, would soon be a Deputy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
